


Masterpiece

by Dorktapus42



Series: Come Together-verse [26]
Category: Youtube (RPF)
Genre: Oh BOY HERE IT IS, Self-Fulfilling Prophecy, This is really hard to tag wow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 13:43:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18316409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dorktapus42/pseuds/Dorktapus42
Summary: The man of writings has not long to wait.The words that are spoken shall rewind his dark fate.The mouth of the Prophet, the cloth rings ‘round his eyes.Those shall peel back his untimely demise.Let him cheat at the game and rise back with the ink,For he deals not with death and refuses to drink.A ‘writer, a paper, the words of the blind.Start it anew, restart his cold mind.You shouldn’t have read this, the devil shall win.Curiosity is… a terrible sin.





	Masterpiece

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Loki day!   
> No, no, this is not a prank. I promise.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Here's a bit of my inspiration, although it is just a really good song.   
> Masterpiece by CG5- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vxmgIDSOrbI

Host paused as he went through the drawers of his desk. There was a file he hadn’t noticed before. That was strange. He thought he knew everything about the library… but it hadn’t always been his.

He pulled it out, focusing to be able to narrate what was on the single piece of paper taped inside, eyebrows slowly furrowing as he read it line by line, the typed ink a stark contrast to the white paper. It was a poem. 

“ _ The man of writings has not long to wait. _

_ The words that are spoken shall rewind his dark fate. _

_ The mouth of the Prophet, the cloth rings ‘round his eyes. _

_ Those shall peel back his untimely demise. _

_ Let him cheat at the game and rise back with the ink, _

_ For he deals not with death and refuses to drink.  _

_ A ‘writer, a paper, the words of the blind. _

_ Start it anew, restart his cold mind. _

_ You shouldn’t have read this, the devil shall win. _

_ Curiosity is… a terrible sin. _ ” He dropped the piece of paper. 

Cinnamon. Parchment. That was all he could sense. It was nowhere near him but… how had he not noticed it sooner? The paper was steeped in the stuff-

He felt a cold hand on his arm and he stood in reflex, fingers curling around the haunted wood of a wrecked baseball bat. 

“Host! Host calm down, it’s just Bing!”

Aluminum. Oranges. 

Parchment. Cinnamon. 

He dropped the bat, hands shaking. 

“Do you want me to call Dark? What’s wrong?” Host blindly reached for the poem, crumpling it in his grip slightly as he grabbed hold of the file.

“The Host… The Host would appreciate it if Bing accompanied him to Dark’s office.”

“Okay? What’cha got there?”

The Host knelt down and reached for the handle of his bat. “A poem the Host found. He is… is worried.”

“Oh. Okay. You want me to lead you there? It might be faster.”

Host slid the poem into his pocket and reached out a hand. “The Host would appreciate it.”

Bing grabbed his hand and started to carefully lead Host through the halls, much faster than Host would have made it through, seeing as he was still reeling from the faint sense of cinnamon and parchment to be able to focus. 

Soon enough Host sensed gunpowder and quartz and there was a sound as Bing knocked on the door of Dark’s office. 

“Dark? It’s Bing and Host. Well, more Host, ‘cause I just led him here but… you know what I’m just going to go.”

Bing let go of his hand and Host took the poem from his pocket. “The Host thanks Bing for his assistance.”

“Any time dude.”

He stuck his head into the office as the android walked away. “If Darkiplier isn’t busy, the Host has a matter he would like to bring to Dark’s attention.”

Dark looked up from his desk. |Your tone makes it sound urgent. What’s wrong?| Host’s usual mutter was slightly shaky around the edges, and his face wore a frown. 

He walked in and placed the poem on the desk. “The Host found this in his desk and read it aloud while narrating. He worries that… it may be the Author trying to find a way to come back to life. He also worries that it might have worked.”

Dark swiftly turned the poem around and scanned it. 

|Wow.|

“The Host agrees.”

|I guess we’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?|

Nothing left to do but wait. 

Host hated not knowing what would happen.

 

\----------

 

Sleep had been evasive. 

He was sitting at the dining table with Dark, who was reading the paper while he had his coffee. 

He let out a breath as the smell of cinnamon and parchment grew closer. His lungs gave a hitch as he heard the soft footfalls slowly coming closer. 

No. 

_ No no no no no no no- _

A very familiar voice cut through his thoughts like a knife through softened butter. To his ears it practically purred, dripping in smugness and charm.

“Hello. It’s great to be back.”

_ “The buttery-smooth timbre was all he could hear.” _

Calm down Host. Calm down-

He practically jumped out of his chair when a hand ruffled his hair. There was someone in between him and Dark. 

Cinnamon. 

He tried to keep the fear off of his face as he smacked the hand away. It moved to rest on the back of his chair. Still too close.

Parchment. 

“Dark! Erm… How are you two doing on this fine day?”

|Just fine. I suggest moving away from Host, Author.| That would be great-

“I just want to hang with my buddy here! Host doesn’t mind, now does he?” What, was he his friend now? His  _ masterpiece _ ?

“Actually-” He mumbled.

“See! He’s fine with it!”

Something snapped and his hands wrapped around the familiar weight of the weapon in his lap, nails starfishing out in all directions a few inches past his left knee. “ **The Author will not be fine if he don’t move back at least three feet right now.** ” 

Silence. Then a laugh, tinged deep with nervousness. A shift back exactly two inches, as if he was rocking back on his heels. “Come on now! No need for violence! We’re all friends now, right?” The facade was dropped on the last word. It was just fear. 

If anything the worry grew frantic after nobody said anything for a few moments. “Right?!”

|Three feet please.| Dark’s face was impassive. 

He backed up five, his back against the cupboard holding Bim’s collection of fancy teacups, some still stained with poison. There was a mild clatter. Author’s hands jerked towards his pockets, but stopped, knowing it would be futile against the power of the Host. 

“Come on friends! There’s no reason to… to… I’ve changed! I’ve learned!”

There was the sound of footsteps, then a voice right before the door opened. “Now what on earth is going on this early in the-”

Chase faltered in the doorway, taking in the scene. Dark sipping coffee, chair turned to look at a mildly-sweaty Author. Host gripping his bat with white hands. The man in question, one who he don’t think he ever remembered meeting, eying them all nervously. His mind flashed upon the discussion he and Host had had a few months ago. He straightened, fully prepared to rain hell upon the Author when-

There was a shy tug on his sleeve and his anger evaporated instantly. “Oh, hey Robbie.”

“Coffee?”

“Oh! Of course, let me just move-”

“Thanks.”

He shifted to the side and the zombie blinked at the scene before his eyes traveled to the Author. They went up. Down. Scanning. 

Then he blinked and gave a little nod to himself, apparently satisfied with something. He puttered off to the kitchen. 

Chase had just taken in a breath to get back to what he was meaning to do when Robbie reappeared in the doorway. 

“Don’t fight. Wait. Coffee almost done.” He pointed at Chase, then the table. “Sit.” Then he turned towards the Author, and pointed to the opposite end of the table from everyone else. “Sit.”

Then he disappeared. There was the clatter of crockery. 

Chase sat by Host. After a pause, the Author sat at the opposite end of the table, chair pulled away from the Host as much as possible. After a few minutes Robbie came back, holding a few mugs. One was set by Host, with two sugars. Another, black as a cave leaving into the depths of the earth, went to Dark, and his old cup went to get washed in the sink, empty. Chase got his usual with a splash of milk and some cinnamon. Robbie turned to Author. “Coffee?” 

“Uh- sure? Black? You don’t have to-”

But Robbie was gone, returning shortly with a cup of coffee for the Author. Then a cup of his own. He sat halfway between the two groups, sipping his coffee with a hum of contentment. 

Nobody else touched theirs. 

|What is this?|

“Coffee.”

|No- well, yes but- why?|

“No fighting. Second chances.”

|Robbie…|

Robbie looked down at his cup, voice growing surer as he found the words to say what he wanted to say. 

“I know what happened. But… it’s been a… year? More?”

“Almost two years…” Host muttered.

“Two years. Maybe we should-”

“Should what, Rob? Give him another chance? He blinded Host!”

Robbie was the only one to notice the faint gulp from Author’s end of the table. That confirmed his suspicions.

“Yes.”

Stunned silence. 

“The Host can tell that Robbie is serious. He worries that Robbie does not have all the facts.”

“Does it matter?”

“I should say it matters a lot!” Chase broke in. Robbie tilted his head at Chase. 

“For forgiveness? No it doesn’t.”

|Robbie-|

Robbie took a sip. “You forgave Wil.”

Silence. 

|That’s different.| Not really, but...

“Maybe, but it’s still forgiveness. Chase, you forgave Jack. Host, would you be willing to do the same for Author?”

More silence. Robbie hadn’t thrown his kind of thinking at them for a while, and they were still wrapping their heads around it. 

“The Host has to think about it.”

Robbie drained his mug and stood “Okay. No fighting?”

“Okay.”

|Thank you for the coffee, Robbie.|

Host was lost in thought, but the bat had disappeared, so that was a good sign. Author was just giving Robbie a contemplative look. 

“I don’t remember you.” Had he been around when he was?

“Wasn’t here yet. Bye.”

And he was gone. 

Well that answered that question. 

“The Host never used the Author’s room. It still remains.”

His lips pursed. “I don’t suppose you might… have a different one?” That place had too memories… he was bound to get sucked into his old habits that way.

For the first time Dark smiled. 

|Let me go ask the Jims. I’m sure they’d be happy to get you situated.|

Oh boy. They’d have a ball interviewing him with questions about how he was still alive. But the smile he received was one simply of gratitude. For how annoying they had been he’d missed the merry band of misfits.

“Thank you.”

He wandered away to go find them, leaving Dark at the table, his coffee growing cold. 

“How much do ya wanna bet that he has a ‘sudden change of heart’ and goes back to his old ways?” Chase growsed. 

|Be optimistic. Robbie tends to be a good judge of character.|

“You can’t tell me you’re on his side!”

|I’m not. I’m simply observing.|

“You’re on his side!” 

Host was silent. 

|No, I’m not. I’m waiting to see what happens. Worst comes to worst…|

He trailed off, and an uncomfortable silence hung over the room. Chase stood. 

“Right. Well, I’m going to wake Anti up and have him help me with breakfast. What’re you guys in the mood for?”

“The Host is fine with anything, although he suggests simply bacon and eggs.”

|I could go for that too. Want any help?|

“I’m okay. That sounds pretty good too. Dark, ya want the paper?”

|Please.|

“Coolio.” And he left to go fetch it. Well that had been forcibly cheery. Trying to force some normalcy, he supposed. 

He went to go get more coffee. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Definitely going to slow down my posting process after this one oh boy.
> 
> But I hoped you enjoyed it.


End file.
